Matou Shinji and the Master of Death
A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story
Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.
Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.
Chapter 21. Alien Minds
It was quiet in the castle – but then, that was to be expected, with most of the teachers, staff, and students of Hogwarts at the Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff Quidditch game, and after the mad hubbub of past few weeks, Pansy Parkinson was rather glad for the break. Between the Potions-Herbology challenges, scenarios for the Ourea, her classwork, and her work running the nascent All-Hogwarts Capture the Flag League, things had been exhausting.
Sometimes she wondered how Matou handled it, since she knew the Stone Cutter was involved in quite a few events, from planning the scenarios the Ourea engaged in, his advanced study of Ancient Runes, whatever the Stone Cutters were up to this year, and keeping up on his potions – on top of having a lover who he spent his evenings with.
Admittedly, she occasionally felt a bit guilty about keeping him under observation for…certain individuals, given all the opportunities he'd given her, but what was she if not ambitious? And it wasn't as if Professors Snape or Lockhart meant any harm to Matou, she was sure. The Potions Master probably just wanted information on a promising candidate for the Wizarding Schools Potions Championship, and it was well known that the History Professor was to be the biographer of the Stone Cutters – with their full consent – so he would get this information one way or another.
This way, at least she stood to profit, given the extra time with the Book of Spells and Book of Potions she'd been able to negotiate as her payment – as well as letters of introduction to notable individuals who might help with a career abroad. She'd been quite honest with Matou when she'd said she didn't want to end up in Britain – a world where everything would be the way it was forever.
Every person had his or her price. For Pansy Parkinson, leaving this place was hers.
Taking a deep breath, the Slytherin walked up to the History Professor's door and made to knock, only for the door to swing open before her.
'One of these days, I'm going to figure out how he does that.'
"Come in, Miss Parkinson," Lockhart's voice called from within, with the girl making her way into the man's austerely appointed office and closing the door behind her. The man, seated at his desk in robes of royal blue, looked up at the sound. "I've been expecting you. Care for some tea?"
"Yes, please, Professor," Pansy said with a small smile, as she withdrew a slim folder from her handbag and slid it across the History Professor's desk. "Here are the summary results for the League so far, and some notes on the Self-Defense Club."
"Mm, anything of note, Miss Parkinson?" Lockhart asked, as he slid her a blessedly steaming cup – just what Pansy needed on a cold day like today. "Two sugars, no milk, correct?"
"I'm surprised you remember, Professor," the girl noted, raising an eyebrow.
"Miss Parkinson, I remember many things," the man replied with a dry chuckle, the corners of his lips curling up into a sly smile. "Including our deal."
"Ah." Pansy blushed just a little bit at his pointed retort.
"Speaking of remembering – do you have anything…interesting to report this time around?" Lockhart questioned, leaning forward slightly.
"League first, or…?"
"I trust your judgement."
"Mm. Well, Luna Lovegood is no longer the captain of Team Snorkack, nor on the team at all," the brunette reported dutifully. "She stepped down last week, with Susan Bones taking her place."
The History Professor nodded and jotted this down on a piece of parchment before him.
"…curious, especially as they are the best-ranked team in the League," the man commented. "Did she give a reason for quitting?"
"No, sir, which is why I found it interesting."
"Indeed," Lockhart mused, chuckling after a moment. "I suppose she found a higher calling then."
"Professor?" Pansy asked quizzically, hoping the man would clarify his statement, but the man simply waved for her to continue. "Oh, very well. There was also an incident in the Potions Challenge earlier this week involving a Boggart."
"This was during the Slytherin-Ravenclaw joint session, where students all over the forest were frozen by fear?" the man asked for confirmation. "I heard that Matou and Potter were involved in the business. You were there, I take it?"
"Yes, sir," Pansy nodded, an involuntary shudder tearing through her as she thought back to that day – that day when she was certain she was going to die, that the faux Sokaris before her was going to rip her apart and drink her dry. Even thinking about it, seeing the bloody smile of the boggart's form in her mind—
"—kinson! Miss Parkinson," the Professor stated firmly as he got up, steadying the girl and pressing a vial into her hands. "Calming Draught." He said, answering her unspoken question. "I find it helps for things like this."
He helped her to uncap the vial and down the substance, with the girl's tension slowly ebbing away as the potion took effect. As the unnatural calm stole over her, damping her shock, her curiosity returned.
"…sir, why do you have this Potion?" she inquired, looking around at his office, and the maps and parchments therein. "Do you…?"
The History Professor's lips pressed together tightly as the man shook his head and sighed.
"There are things about being an adventurer that don't find their way into my books, Miss Parkinson," he replied quietly, resting a hand on his latest manuscript. "Things that don't bear much dwelling on, if you understand my meaning."
"Oh."
She'd thought the life of an adventurer was one of glamour, seeing the world, finding hidden treasures, discovering artifacts and creatures no one had known before. But this…was painting an entirely different picture of things.
"But that is a conversation for another day, Miss Parkinson," Lockhart intoned, shaking his head. "About the Boggart?"
"…I was frozen by it," Pansy admitted after what seemed like a small eternity. "Potter's second Boggart. We all were – except Matou."
"What form did it take?" The Professor's voice was soft, but insistent, urging the girl to remember.
"It…it took the form of Sokaris. The girl who died first year. Only it wasn't her." Pansy swallowed as she recalled it. The bloody smile, the terror of it, how it had fixated on the Boy-Who-Lived and had paralyzed everyone else. She'd wanted to run, but there was no way she could have run, not when her entire body had been paralyzed. "It was like she was a vampire, but no vampire I'd ever seen, ever heard of could just overpower people like that."
"A vampire, you say?"
"'TATARI's successor,' she called herself," the girl related, closing her eyes. "But what is TATARI? Do you know, sir? Your book, Voyages with Vampires, is all about them, after all," the girl continued. "But what kind of vampire is…?"
…this kind of monster…
"Mm, what kind is the question indeed," Lockhart commented, intrigued by this revelation, as he recalled what he knew of the living dead. "There are several sorts, after all."
"…there are?" Pansy blinked. She'd only ever read about vampires as a blanket term for bloodsuckers, and assumed there was only one type.
"There are indeed," Lockhart replied. "Many that the Ministry likely do not know about, and would not mention if they did for fear of terrorizing the populace."
"Sir?"
"Tell me, Miss Parkinson, do you really want to know?" the man asked, his voice soft, but unyielding. "Knowledge, once given, is difficult to take back, after all."
"Please."
"Very well. There is one kind of vampire I know of whose powers would match what you describe – an all paralyzing fear freezing even wizards in place, as prey are frozen by the presence of a supreme predator," the assassin explained matter-of-factly. "We call them the Apostles of Death."
"The Apostles of Death?" Pansy repeated, finding the very name terrifying. Disciples of Death itself? That sounded…monstrous beyond compare. "And TATARI?"
"That is a name I have not heard, nor do I know how Potter came to know of it," Lockhart noted. "I can only conjecture that Potter must have encountered such a being at one point. Perhaps through a Boggart of his late friend. I cannot say – it would be rare at best for wizards to survive encounters with such beings."
"…then what about Matou?" Pansy asked, brows knitting together as she remembered how Shinji had acted not in fear, but in utter rage. "Why wasn't he paralyzed?"
"How did he react, Miss Parkinson?" The Professor was curious now, given that very few people had the capacity to face such beings – at least in the world of wizards, and not the other world he belonged to.
"He was angry. Angrier than I've ever seen him. Angry enough to kill," Pansy recalled, remembering the terrible look on Matou Shinji's face – and how after it had transformed again, he had gone berserk, blasting mass of worms the Boggart had become back over and over and over again, with hundreds of his ofuda blowing apart its form, blowing apart the ground it had rested on, over and over again until there was nothing left. "He pulled it away from Potter."
"What did it become?"
"A mass of worms that shaped itself into an old man. It…" she trailed off, forcing herself to calm down as her emotions ran high despite the draught. "It called him a 'disgrace to the name of Makiri' and told him it was time to die."
"And then?"
"Then…" Pansy breathed in sharply. "He attacked it. Destroyed it. He used arts I've never seen before, commanding the power of darkness itself alongside his Eastern Arts as he attacked it again and again and again, until there were was nothing left. And then…"
"…yes?"
"…then he laughed."
"He…laughed?" Lockhart repeated.
"Yes," the Parkinson girl confirmed, nodding. "He laughed."
She'd never heard another wizard laugh like that before, and didn't think she'd be able to forget that laugh to the end of her days. A cruel, cold laughter that sounded like how she imagined the Dark Lord would have laughed. And for a moment – a brief moment – she'd wondered if he would turn on them, if he would turn his terrible power against them.
…because if he had, she didn't think she would have survived. That any of them would, except maybe Potter, who seemed to be immune to death or something.
But he hadn't. He'd just stood there until her touch had soothed him, and he'd told her that even now, the girl named Sialim Sokaris was the one who consumed him, if not in so many words.
"Sir. Do you think…he's faced something like that before?" Pansy asked hesitantly.
"I don't know, Miss Parkinson, but I find it likely he has seen more danger than most at this school, save perhaps your teachers and the Stone Cutters," Lockhart answered. "He knows fear, certainly, but it seems that like an Auror, he has been trained to shrug off that fear. As I have been trying to train all of you in the Ourea."
"…not with something to that degree," the Slytherin girl retorted.
"No, admittedly," the Professor conceded. "But then I don't think any of you are ready for that yet, are you?"
Pansy sighed.
"I can't deny that, Professor," she admitted. "Though your Kobayashi Maru test is also something none of us are ever ready for."
"Miss Parkinson, that's rather the point," Lockhart said archly, staring at the girl for a long span of moments, before he relented. "On another note, how are you finding your responsibilities as head of the League?"
"I'm…enjoying the position, sir." And she was. Having authority – official authority – was something she handled well, and it was nice being able to solve problems and get credit for them outside of class.
"I'm pleased to hear it. Should it come to pass that…next year's event is not at Hogwarts, then I will arrange for you to have suitable position, as per our agreement," the Professor continued. "Just don't mention that in your report to Professor Snape, would you?"
Pansy blinked, jaw dropping as she looked at the History professor.
"…how did you know…?"
"Miss Parkinson, the concept of double-dipping is hardly foreign to me," Lockhart commented dryly. "And given that you are in the Potions Boot Camp and the Ourea, it does make sense that you would report to both instructors, doesn't it?"
"I…um…yes," Pansy answered, for once at an utter loss for words.
"I don't suppose you've learned anything about his feelings for Miss Granger, present or otherwise?"
But the Slytherin girl could only shake her head.
"Very well then. Thank you for the information as always, Miss Parkinson. Should you desire, I suppose you may come along for the press conference that Lucius Malfoy will be holding next weekend as my assistant? It concerns the…event you were interested in covering."
"Oh. Yes. Please."
Never let it be said that Gilderoy Lockhart did not reward loyalty, after all.
In a different part of the castle, one not marked on any map (even the vaunted construct of the Marauders), Matou Shinji stood in an empty room, ofuda scattered at his feet as he breathed, focusing on the sensation of prana flowing through the world.
His robe and wands had been placed in the corner of the room, for today, he had resolved to focus on manipulating the element of Earth – something he had not progressed much in since the beginning of the year, due to all the other responsibilities and work heaped upon him. True, he was learning a great deal from Lockhart's lessons, but that alone wouldn't give him the power he needed to defeat the colony of Acromantulas – the power he needed to one day be recognized by his grandfather.
To stand on the same level as a magus – to eventually be able to fight and defeat one in combat – he needed more than his current arsenal of tricks, as they, like Acromantula, or most youkai, would shrug off whatever he could do with his wands.
He needed to master the arts that had been – that were – his trump: his ofuda.
Specifically manipulating the element of earth, which was what he had dedicated himself to studying this year, though in actually, what he'd managed to accomplish wasn't that impressive.
Whirr!
He'd managed to summon spikes, but only with difficulty and many, many ofuda.
"That's because you're thinking about it the wrong way, Master," his familiar, the kodama spoke, taking on the appearance of a horned boy in white Japanese-styled clothing with silver hair and golden eyes. "What skills you have in earth, you learned in combat against the oniikuma, correct?"
"Yes," Shinji acknowledged. "My other spells couldn't penetrate its defenses. It was warding off my ofuda, so it couldn't bind it, so I needed something that would stop it."
As said this, he tried to reach out, to feel where the spirit was, not through his link, but through the way it disturbed the ground, sending little ripples of prana where it touched.
Another spike shot up, and it, like the first, was deftly sidestepped.
"But in that fight, your opponent was pinned in place, Master," Zelkova said reproachfully. "Here, I am not, so your desire to overwhelm me with raw power is not helpful. In combat, I have noted you prefer pre-emptive strikes, overpowering those who attack you with main force, but that only works against foes that are either weaker than you or which stay still long enough for you to hurt them."
This time, a pillar of earth rose up, but Zelkova evaded that just as easily.
"Do not allow yourself to be goaded by the sound of my voice, or by my words," the spirit chided him, as the kodama's golden eyes looked upon the would-be onmyoudou in the center of the room. "After all, when you first came to use earth, what was your mindset?"
"I was angry," Shinji replied. Anger had always given him strength, after all.
"No, you were not," the kodama replied evenly. The familiar paused for a time as he circled the boy silently. "Your encounter with the boggart disturbed you, didn't it?"
"…how could it not?" the Boy from the East growled.
"It set you on edge,"
"Yes, and…? I destroyed it," Shinji answered, as if challenging his familiar, who raised an eyebrow and let the words sit for a minute, then two, then three.
"You did," Zelkova allowed, moving to stand in a corner of the room and mirror his Master's posture. "At the cost of most of your explosive ofuda."
"…point," Shinji allowed. "I'm not good enough. Even Luna has been beating me in our spars lately."
Whether she was in her fusion form or not, she managed to see through his strategies, to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, predicting what he did, and how he would move.
"I cannot fault your masters in their original training for you," the kodama said slowly. "They wished to get you to a certain standard of competence quickly, so you learned to attack quickly, to probe defenses, to seize what you saw as opportunity."
"And I learned."
"You did indeed, but there are habits you must unlearn as well," Zelkova noted impassively, his voice echoing around the chamber. "There is much truth to your Mentor's teaching that anger limits your options, after all. It strengthens your offensive abilities, makes you more powerful, but strips away your flexibility of thought, and in true combat, that can be deadly."
Shinji was silent for a moment – no, more, before he sighed.
"…you might have a point."
"Perhaps you would like to see the world as I do, Master?" the kodama inquired, as Shinji's vision was overlaid with what looked like light. Light that he realized represented prana – his own and that of others, with the kodama almost too bright to look at.
'This is the world as spirits see it. We see the patterns in the world. The flame of life in each living thing. How intent and behavior flow.'
Shinji almost thought he could hear the other chuckle faintly, almost.
'All things fall into patterns. All things learn the templates that best fit them. And so in time, people begin to act before they realize what they have decided. To those of us aware of the ever-present now, these subtle hints, these movements betray the patterns someone will move into. The way your prana is shaped, the way you seek to use it aggressively – knowing this makes it easy to evade.'
"I…see," the Matou scion replied. He'd never thought it that way before, had simply learned to act and react. "So what you're saying is, Luna knows how I think, how I fight."
"Indeed," the other answered out loud. "You have sparred often enough, after all. And yet her mind remains a mystery to you. At least more of a mystery than yours to her. Why?"
When Shinji provided no answer, the kodama provided one for him.
"Because she sees the world as it is. You may see more clearly than most others at this school, but you still divide the world into parts and pieces, believing that some patterns never change. Be careful lest you fall into the trap you accuse others of – not seeing."
Matou Shinji was silent, as he could not really respond to that.
"How did she learn to fuse with Pandora…and you?" he asked instead.
"Her mind is open. She is very much like a spirit herself, so it is not hard to join with her," Zelkova replied. "While you have a very strong sense of who and what you believe yourself to be. Identities you seize, cling to, as if they are your life itself. You define yourself rigidly. She does not. She and her fox are still Luna Lovegood, because her sense of self is broad enough to accept that. You do not see the world the same way, so fusion is more difficult for you."
"Huh…"
And that was true.
For all of his life, Matou Shinji had tried to define himself as one thing or another. First, he had called himself the heir to the Matou family, and had striven to be a magus, despite having no circuits at all. Then, when he'd received the letter from Hogwarts, he'd been determined to be seen as someone worthy, someone powerful, someone who would be respected – as the heir of the Matou should be.
…even if he was not the heir.
"So we return then to the moment you first used earth," Zelkova said mildly. "Close your eyes, think back to the moment when you hung in the sky, looking down at your enemy, the great bear. You were injured. Everything you had tried was useless. But were you angry?"
Shinji closed his eyes, thinking back, back, back to that fight which had happened almost a lifetime ago, to the moment he'd decided to try earth.
"…no," he realized. There had been no anger. He had almost seemed to watch from outside himself, unaffected by his wounds as his mind raced. "I wasn't."
"You did not rush, or force yourself to use earth elemental ofuda, did you?"
…no. That he had not. He had shaped it slowly, deliberately, knowing he only had one chance, one shot to strike the enemy – and that he had to make that shot count, as it was the only one he had. And in that moment, as his power filled the world, he could have shaped the earth as he saw fit.
"It was in the end, when you completed you spell, that you added the notion of wrath to it. That you wished for the land to become your wrath and cage the enemy with spikes and blades."
"…yes," Shinji admitted. Now that he thought back, that was how it happened.
"The mindset you had then – one of deliberation, of waiting for the right opportunity and seizing it – that is fundamental for the mastery of earth," the kodama noted gently, golden eyes looking upon the boy impassively. "You have not had that mindset since then. That sense of focus."
And he hadn't, being too distracted by other things.
"As you are, you are not yet powerful enough that you can afford that, not against what you seek to face," the kodama continued. "Not enough for what you seek to become."
Silence hung in the air, as Matou Shinji let himself consider these things, and how his deepest desires were pitted against his pride.
…he was proud, there was no doubt of that, but it was not pride that had led him to become Aozaki Touko's apprentice, or pride that had gained him the respect of the Director of Atlas. It was something more – a desire to be something more.
"Can you teach me, Zelkova?" Matou Shinji found himself asking. This was hard for him, as he didn't like admitting to weakness. "I want…to be strong enough to protect my friends. To protect Luna. To be a Matou Shinji I am not ashamed of. As I am, I don't think what I have is enough."
"Mm," the other replied, a quiet sound that commanded the boy's full attention. "That I can do. I will teach you, Master, to shape the earth. To sinks others into it, to shake the world, to cause rocks to fall or use earth to shield your mortal form. I will teach you to see, to use the vibrations in the earth to sense what is around you and to read the patterns of the world. I will teach you to change the patterns, so you can hide your intent and presence. I can do all this and more…if you are willing to learn, as an apprentice would from a Master."
…that was something of a reversal, but Shinji knew he had no choice. Not if he wished to become as powerful, as strong, as he claimed to be.
"And fusion as well?" Shinji asked.
"That will come in time," the other noted.
"As you will."
For Hermione Granger, the day was considerably less wonderful, as the rest of the week had been. After Matou had left her to her own devices in the Potions-Herbology joint session, she'd gamely done her best, trying her best to believe that Matou had done this for her own good, to give her a chance to practice her potions and scavenging skills without him by her side – as he would not be in the final competition.
…and she'd failed. Utterly, completely failed – freezing up not only from a spike of fear that had come out of nowhere, but also when she encountered a Boggart herself.
A Boggart in the form of Luna Lovegood, wearing the white ensemble she had to the Halloween Ball, who had told her that Matou didn't really love her, that if loved her, he would have stayed by her side, instead of straying. If he loved her, he would have responded to her kiss, wouldn't he? If he loved her, wouldn't he have chosen her over Pansy when it came to choosing between opening the Capture the Flag season or going to Hogsmeade with her - something he knew she had been looking forward to?
And worst of all, the false Luna had asked that if Matou Shinji really loved Hermione Granger, why wasn't he there with her?
She hadn't been able to reply before the world went black. And when she was revived, she found that her potions had been stolen, and she had failed.
'And Matou wasn't here today…'
Yes, she'd heard that he had his own difficulties, seeing Sokaris as his Boggart or some such, and her heart had ached to hear that, as she knew it would probably have hurt him badly if their late friend had blamed him…
…but as she trudged back from the Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff game that Su Li had insisted – and which she had attended not to worry the girl, she wished it was him walking beside her. That he would be there when she got back to the tower, to hold her and comfort her and tell her it would be alright.
…but he wasn't.
…and worse, neither was Luna Lovegood, Matou's childhood friend.
He walked through the cool corridors of the Hogwarts dungeons, taking in the rather damp décor as he proceeded, his robes billowing behind him as he walked. This was not his domain, of course, but he'd certainly seen worse over the years, as he'd walked through hundreds of battlefields, seen many ruins and makeshift shelters where people still lived – or had lived.
As the Assassin made his way to the appointed area, he smirked as there was no sense of surprise, foreboding, or anything at all really.
He rapped on the door to the rhythm of "shave and a haircut, two bits," wondering if the other man would recognize it.
But if the other did, there was no sign.
"Enter," the brusque voice of the castle's Potions Master intoned.
And so Gilderoy Lockhart entered the lair of Severus Snape, to which he'd been summoned.
"You wanted to see me, Severus?" the History Professor asked with an easy smile.
"Yes," the dour Potions Master returned. "I presume you are familiar with the Ravenclaw named Matou Shinji, since he heads your…Ourea."
"Indeed, I have the pleasure," Lockhart replied with a slight bow and a flourish of his hands that brought a frown to Snape's lips. "What do you want to know, Severus?"
Snape paused for a moment, as if finding something particularly…distasteful, but sighed and shook his head.
"As you know, I have combined Potions and Herbology classes this year in an effort to seek a candidate for Hogwarts Potions Champion," the Potions Master ground out. "However, the students as a whole have been less than…entirely impressive. Even, I regret to say, those I have recruited for my Potions Boot Camp."
"Except Matou, I gather?"
"Matou, Potter, and the Weasley Twins," Snape elaborated, though it was clear the admission did not come easily.
"The Stone Cutters," Lockhart summed up.
"Indeed. Given the format of the competition, survival is paramount. Being able to brew is a necessity as well, but if one cannot survive the preliminaries, which involve navigating an enchanted isle full of magical beasts, scavenging ingredients on the way…"
"…one is likely not going to brew anything too impressive."
"Hn. One is a student I have given extensive tutelage to, so I am unsurprised at his skill, both in brewing and his ability to defend himself. Two are the Weasley Twins, and I do not believe I need to elaborate on them." Their penchant for mischief and mayhem had been well known for years – though that was before they joined the Stone Cutters. "But it is Matou that…intrigues me."
"Because of the Boggart incident."
"Yes."
"All four are quite competent," Lockhart noted. "Matou all the more so, as I've been taking him under my wing as an adventurer."
"An…adventurer…"
"Yes, he seems to have the notion that his life will take him beyond Britain," Lockhart noted dryly. "Imagine that from a boy who comes from Japan."
"I have been to Mahoutokoro," Snape replied flatly. "Let us cut to the heart of the matter. I do not question his competence, but I am…concerned about his reaction to a boggart. Specifically his attempt to brutally and violently destroy it, followed by rather…disturbing laughter."
"I think it likely that the boy is simply under a great deal of stress, Severus," Lockhart explained. "After all, he was moved up to the next year of Ancient Runes, among other things."
"So I had heard," Snape acknowledged. The man was silent for a moment before attempting to probe along a different line of questioning. "Your…organization founded a self-defense club this year, and a new sport based around defense. Why?"
"Such a thing is always useful for teaching students the art of strategy, after all," the History Professor noted. "You can hardly disagree, given that you are doing much the same with the Potions-Herbology Classes."
"…granted," Snape allowed grudgingly. "A sport, however?"
"Why not? The Hogwarts Houses have been divided long enough," Lockhart said, his smile easy and affable, much to Snape's irritation. "Moody and Shacklebolt seem to like my methods well enough."
Snape swallowed a reply that Alastor Moody in fact was wondering what the hell Lockhart was playing at, and what his intentions were, as that would not be helpful at the moment.
"Perhaps," the Potions Master said simply. "As a matter of curiosity then, in your discussions with the Stone Cutters, have you learned anything about the one they call Sialim Sokaris?"
"No," Lockhart answered, quite honestly – after all, Pansy Parkinson was not one of the Stone Cutters. "Though wouldn't you know more, as you were Dumbledore's agent for a time, and no doubt know what really happened in the catacombs?"
Snape blinked, his scowl deepening.
"I sure I have no idea what you mean," the man replied flatly.
"Clearly," Lockhart answered in much the same tone. "Did you have anything else you wanted to ask, Severus? I find I have a good deal of writing to do. An author's life is a busy one, after all!"
Snape looked at the History Professor with not a small amount of frustration, as he knew the man would not answer clearly as to what his objectives were here. Whatever the truth to his reputation as an adventurer, the man was certainly…canny, at least in the ways of politics.
"You are still writing the late Quirrell's biography, I presume?" the Potions Master said at last, noting the adventurer's nod of acknowledgement. "Have you discovered anything interesting about his year on sabbatical?"
Lockhart nodded curtly.
"Of course, though you'll have to wait for the book for details," the History Professor chided, waggling his finger at the other man. "After all, I have to make a living somehow. Besides, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Try me," Snape responded through gritted teeth. "You'll find I'm full of surprises."
"What do you want me to say, that he met Lord Voldemort's ghost in Albania?" Gilderoy asked glibly, throwing up his hands. "Tut tut, Severus. Don't go looking for spoilers. You'll meet your death one of these days."
With that, the assassin waltzed out of the room, with the Potions Master of Hogwarts glaring daggers at his back.
'Gilderoy Lockhart, what kind of game are you playing?' he wondered. But then what the man had said struck him and his frown deepened into an outright scowl. 'And how is it that you dare to use the Dark Lord's name?'
…whatever the case, though, it was clear the man had found something. And given that the Dark Lord had possessed Quirrell…there was a good chance Lockhart was telling the truth.
But then, if so…why was he not possessed himself?
Greatest adventurer of Britain he might be, but beyond that…
'Who are you?'